


Fluent In Stroll

by Anonymous



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “My place?” Stephen asked, oblivious to Jon’s apparent relief that he did not, in fact, hate his guts.“Are you- are you sure?” Jon stumbled both in speech and in stroll.Stephen grabbed his arm to steady him and laughed as Jon threw an accusatory glance at a crack in the sidewalk. "Why not? We can keep warm…”Jon cocked a brow. “Are you suggesting something?”Stephen shrugged. "Maybe."(The one where Stephen isn't as surefire as he thinks he is and Jon can take the lead when he wants to.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written off of the sole fact that Jon majored in psychology.

“Stop reading me.”

Jon’s face soured over his drink. “Stop what?” His features scrunched in confusion.

Stephen rested his back against the booth and shot him an accusatory glare. “Reading me. You’re trying to figure out if I’m having a good time or not," he stated.

Jon’s demeanor shifted from defensive to embarrassed. Stephen _was_ right. Jon gave him a shy smile and said, “Sorry. Didn’t mean it.” He fiddled with a cork coaster and avoided his gaze. He was nervous; even someone as oblivious to attraction as Stephen could tell. It was kind of cute, the way Jon kept smoothing the front of his shirt in an attempt to act casual. The twitchiness was uncharacteristic, especially for Jon. Maybe Stephen could up the ante, just for fun. 

“Oh, no, I don’t mind,” Stephen said in an airy voice. He reached for his own glass before remembering it was empty and clicked his tongue. “Thank God you’re not a mind reader," he remarked.

The quip seemed to ease Jon a little bit. He allowed himself a self-deprecating scoff and leaned in a bit closer once he regained some confidence. “Yeah. I blew 50k for a psychology degree and now I can’t even tell if people like me or not," Jon complained in signature monotone.

“ _I_ like you," Stephen said, which got Jon all flustered again. He raised his eyebrows. "Only 50k?" Stephen proceeded to wave a waitress over and gestured to his empty glass before Jon could get a word in. She nodded, then disappeared just as quickly as she came. He turned back to Jon and gave him a sheepish grin over his glasses, saying, “Sorry. Uh, yeah. Mind reading. You’d be horrified if you knew what I thought about in my free time.” Stephen's right leg began to bob up and down, and he debated whether or not he should stop. It was a good way to release stress, he decided, so he allowed himself the nervous tic.

 _Dead giveaway_ , Jon thought but didn’t allow his gaze to stay on Stephen’s shaking side too long. "We know each other too well." Jon sighed. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing new I could learn about you that would surprise me." The waitress returned with a full glass and they both gave her tight smiles.

Stephen took a sip and licked his lips, which earned him an eye-roll from across the table.

"Don't be too sure," he drawled once she was gone. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

-

What Stephen knew was that Jon’s lips on his neck felt  _good._  He would’ve fully enjoyed the contact too, had it not been for the dull throb of his cock pressing against his thigh as they made out in the hallway. It was frustrating, really, but it wasn't the worst problem a guy could have.

His sense of focus began to fade as he felt Jon bite down, hard, right below his collarbone. Stephen winced a little, imagined the welt that would crop up within the hour, and continued to run a hand through Jon’s salt-and-pepper hair. _How nice,_ Stephen wanted to comment in snide. _How nice of you to hide this hickey from the cameras and spare me the embarrassment._ (But he let Jon continue, nonetheless.)

He breathed in sharp as Jon traveled farther down his chest. He smelled good, Stephen thought- of the odd combination of bubble gum and cigarettes despite Jon’s insistence that he’d quit years ago. Fortunately, this made breathing heavy a little easier (Stephen had gone out with girls who, much to his displeasure, wore perfume so intoxicating that he felt like his bloodstream was getting poisoned every time he inhaled), and it took all of his willpower to not collapse as Jon pressed him against the wall.

Jon lifted his head from Stephen’s chest where he’d grazed his teeth against the skin (less aggressive this time, thank God- Stephen had never been one for pain during foreplay) and pulled him in for a kiss on the lips again, this one deeper and slower than the one Stephen had insinuated in the elevator on the way to his apartment. That one was needy and anxiety-fueled while this one, now that they had privacy, had set intention behind it. It was kind of nice.

Jon urged him to the bedroom, which Stephen found strange since he owned the place. He let Jon lead him down the hallway, blood filling his ears. It was fitting in a way. Jon had always taken pride in the fact that he was a performer (not an actor, no, never an actor) and, despite Stephen’s assumed appetite for attention in front of the cameras, he was perfectly fine with being a spectator behind closed doors.

Once in the bedroom, Stephen allowed himself to be pushed towards the foot of the bed where he sat and shivered as Jon’s cold hands grazed his lower back when he lifted Stephen’s shirt up and over his head. He was unbelievably hard now, and honestly, Stephen was surprised that he’d been able to hold himself together for this long. His breaths were still even, but shallower and quicker in accordance with his racing heart.

He leaned forward and attempted to return the favor, to undress Jon as well, but Jon just shook his head and gave him a look that told him he had different plans. _You first_ , Jon seemed to say, and Stephen could do nothing but gape. He undid Stephen’s belt with ease and followed by tugging his jeans off just as quickly. _How the-_ , Stephen thought as Jon got to his knees and took his dick into his mouth. Stephen balled his hands around his sheets as Jon planted kisses up and down the length of him.

“Holy  _shit_ ,” Stephen groaned, then released a heavy sigh against his own chest, mussed hair falling flat on his forehead. Jon didn’t waver, began to suck him off eagerly, pushed on with every noise Stephen made. “Ah- _…”_ He moaned a soft warning and Jon suddenly stopped. Stephen had been sporting an erection for- it felt like hours to him, but in reality it had only been twenty minutes or so- he bit his lip and tried to hold on a little longer, for Jon's sake. 

Confident, blue eyes made contact with his own and Stephen’s breath hitched. "Christ, you're beautiful," Stephen said in awe, and Jon probably would've made fun of him in any other circumstance. “I’m gonna…” He trailed off, and Jon gave him a knowing look. A steady hand replaced his hot mouth, and suddenly Jon was kissing him again. His lips found their way to Stephen’s left ear and the wet air against his temples made him shiver.

“Like that?” Jon breathed, and Stephen let out a wordless nod, then shook his head. _Wait._  

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked, suddenly concerned. His grip loosened, and the reduced contact made Stephen's chest sink.

Stephen gulped and felt his fingers twitch. “I want to- Let me do the same to you.” Stephen was close to begging. He probably would, all Jon had to do was ask. He wanted to touch him  _so_ badly before he came. “Please,” he added. Maybe if he asked nicely...

Jon looked at him with an expression of shock, or maybe he was just impressed. “You want to-”

“Blow you,” Stephen confirmed. To hear himself say something so gauche turned his face red. Whoever said saying was easier than doing was a fucking liar. (The terrible things he said on the show dwarfed dirty talk, Stephen figured. He could let this slide for once.) His conscience was easily settled.

“I didn’t think you were the type,” Jon gave him a shy look soaked in lingering disbelief.

Stephen resisted the urge to smirk. “Like I said, there's a lot you don't know about me. I went to a public college just like you did, Jon.” There was a joke hidden somewhere, but neither of them found it.

“I- Uh, No you didn’t?” was his flustered reply.

“It’s a saying.”

“No, it’s not.”

Stephen sighed. “Look, what I’m saying is, I really want to do this, curse my southern hospitality if you want to, Stewart, but I don’t do stuff like this-” he pressed a palm to Jon’s inner thigh to prove his point “-often.”

“Holy shit,” Jon breathed, then nodded. If Stephen wanted to reciprocate, so be it. He'd be an idiot to object. Jon pulled his clothes off quickly and traded places with Stephen as the latter sank down to level with Jon’s lap. Stephen put one hand on his dick and the other on the base of Jon’s and began to stroke at both impatiently. Jon’s left leg twitched and Stephen grinned, flicking a tongue across only the tip before taking the rest of him in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Jon moaned, and laced his fingers with the back of Stephen’s head, inadvertently creating a steady rhythm Stephen would never protest against. “Shit- Stephen.” Jon was vocal, more vocal than Stephen at least, or maybe he just liked the sound of his own voice.

“You- you- shit- fuck.” Jon grit his teeth. “ _Stephen,_ ” he settled on his favorite word, repeated his name over and over again for the sake of making noise. Stephen loved the hand in his hair, loved the way Jon subconsciously massaged his scalp. Stephen twisted his wrist, and, when Jon shuddered, would've given him a self-satisfied look if he weren't so busy. Two more similar movements and Jon came without warning in the back of Stephen's throat, a soft  _sorry_ chased by  _holy fuck_ and  _jesus christ_...

Stephen came shortly after, upper body stiff and shaking and he rested his forehead on the foot of the mattress. He leaned back on his heels after he felt the last of himself drip over his fingers. He breathed heavy.

"Hey." Jon's tone was warm. He leaned down and they kissed, tongues entangling as Stephen moved into him as much as he could. Jon was sweating hard, a strange sight to behold when it was freezing cold outside, but Stephen could only assume he looked the same as well.

“Shower?” Stephen offered after they pulled away and regained some energy.

“Meet you there,” Jon groaned as he stood up. “You're crazy if you think I’ll be able to-”

“I know your limits, old man,” Stephen said in snide, then ignored the dirty look Jon gave him as he searched for his clothes.

-

“You never told me,” Jon remembered as they walked from the bar. Where they were going, Jon wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to mention it.

“Told you what?” Stephen pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and rubbed them together in an attempt to keep warm. When that didn't work he shoved them back in and watched his breath rise underneath a flickering streetlamp instead.

“If you were having a good time or not.”

Stephen tilted his head and gave him a look of genuine surprise. “Of course I did.”

Jon’s chest suddenly felt tight.

“My place?” Stephen asked, oblivious to Jon’s apparent relief that he did not, in fact, hate his guts.

“Are you- are you sure?” Jon stumbled both in speech and in stroll.

Stephen grabbed his arm to steady him and laughed as Jon threw an accusatory glance at a crack in the sidewalk. "Why not? We can keep warm…”

Jon cocked a brow. “Are you suggesting something?”

Stephen shrugged. "Maybe." They walked in silence for a few more seconds before he spoke up again. He felt it was appropriate to echo his previous sentiment. "Thank God you’re not a mind reader."

"I know," Jon scoffed, then followed Stephen to a sleek-looking high rise.

"Say, this is my building," he said matter of factly, and they stared at each other as if finding themselves under a mistletoe. He spun the key loop on his finger. "Coming in?"

The look Jon gave him was nonchalant. "Read my mind and you tell me."

**Author's Note:**

> (The order of the chunks go 1,3,2 if you want the linear plot)


End file.
